After The Fight
by Jensen Jones
Summary: Buffy, the Scoobies, and her team of trained Slayers go to LA to help out Angel and team after the big apocalypse.
1. Chapter 1

Angel and his team – what was left of it – were assembled in Angel's former Wolfram and Hart boardroom when the door opened. Buffy, Giles, Willow, and Xander, along with a cohort of new slayers strode into the room. Buffy looked radiant, poised, on top of her game, gorgeous as ever. Willow looked confident and powerful. Xander seemed more self-assured than Angel remembered. He looked like he'd been working out, and even seemed to wear the eyepatch well. The team of slayers looked eager and ready for anything, excitement, curiosity and anticipation clear on their fresh young faces. Even Giles looked in top form. The English weather must agree with him.

"Hi, all," Buffy smiled warmly, addressing Angel's team with a sweeping glance that lingered on Angel. "I heard you guys really kicked ass in your latest big apocalypse. Sorry we missed it. But we're here to help with the clean-up, any way we can. Whatever you need. We're all yours Angel."

"Thanks for coming," Angel said with more gratitude than he could express. It was only now, seeing the contrast between his war-torn team and Buffy's bright-eyed crew that he realised what a thin thread they'd all been hanging on these past few weeks since the big battle, coming to terms with the state of the city and dealing with everything that had gone down. They were shell-shocked. Suddenly he was a little unsure how to proceed. "Do we need… introductions?" he suggested hesitantly.

"Sure," Buffy nodded. "This is Kennedy, Jessie, Lorna, Lee and Rani…" the list went on as Buffy introduced all the other slayers. "They're fully trained slayers now. Ready for some action. And I think most of you know Giles, Willow and Xander. And I'm me. Buffy." She gave a little wave. "Hi!"

"Right," Angel nodded. "Real glad to meet all of you," he said to the new slayers, wondering how he was going to remember all their names. He guessed he had better reciprocate and introduce his team too, although he was almost certain Giles and Buffy would have prepped the slayers already. They seemed very organised. "Ah..." he looked across the board room table. "This is Charles Gunn."

"Just Gunn," Gunn gave a kind of smile and a nod from his spot across the table. He had been out of hospital for a week now and was looking near enough like his old self. "That's what everyone calls me. Except Spike. But I don't want his 'Charlie-Boy' thing catching on, you got that?"

"Right. And this is Wesley," Angel indicated, and Wesley nodded with a small grim that came out as more of a grimace. Illyria had patched him up good as new - physically at least, and Angel hadn't been brave enough to ask how. Something told him he didn't want to know the details. "And this is…" Angel gestured toward Illyria, wondering how on earth to introduce her. She was in human form as she had been most of the time since the battle as it required less of her power to maintain. She was still recovering, and complaining about how weakened she felt in that arrogant way she had, but compared to the rest of them she was in fine form.

"Fred," Willow smiled.

"No," Angel's face clouded. "Fred's dead. This is Illyria. One of the Old Ones… but she's much reduced in power. And she's on our side now. Long story." Angel added at Willow's dismayed reaction.

Spike cleared his throat and Angel and the others turned to the sofa at the back of the room where Spike reclined with a somewhat pained expression on his face as he watched the goings on at the board room table, in what could be taken for his customary semi-detached manner.

"Oh, and last but not least," Angel told them all, "that's Spike, over there. He's er…" Angel hesitated. "He's also part of our team. I guess."

Spike didn't move other than to narrow his eyes slightly under the gaze of old and new faces. Spike was going to be okay too, Angel told himself. Vampire healing powers would see to that, even if it took a little time. And it did seem to be taking more than a little time. Angel had come out of the battle in a worse state than he'd thought it was possible to survive. He'd kept fighting long after giving up hope of making it through. Yet here he was five weeks later, a little tender in some places, a little stiff in others, but otherwise mostly healed. No lasting damage. Spike would come through just the same, he was sure. He was here, after all. They both were. That's what mattered. He turned back to Buffy and her crew. "And I'm Angel. Welcome to Los Angeles," he told them with a wry yet genuine smile. "What's left of it. I hope you're all come prepared for some groundwork. We'll use all the help we can get."

…

They got down to business quickly. Illyria gave an epic rundown on the apocalyptic battle, highlighting many of her own big moments and a heroic account of Angel's battle with the dragon. She had paused at a pivotal moment of that tale glancing at Angel who had shaken his head slightly, so she had continued her account without mention of Spike. Buffy's team applauded her efforts with a round of applause and they moved on to a sobering report on the state of post-apocalyptic LA from Wesley and Gunn. Then Angel divided them into three groups. Each group would venture out at sundown and patrol a different area, a member of Angel's team acting as a guide to bring Buffy's colleagues up to speed. Meanwhile Angel was going to be filling Buffy in further and giving her a personal tour, and negotiating how they could best work together now and in the future.

"One question, Angel. I must have missed your mention of it. What group is Spike patrolling with?" Giles asked. The vampire listening silently from the sofa was the only one Angel had not designated a role.

"Spike?" Angel turned and caught the other vampire's eye momentarily, but Spike looked down and remained silent, leaving the response entirely up to him. Suddenly Angel realised that the others didn't know, couldn't tell, as obvious as it was to him, that there was no way Spike would be patrolling anywhere tonight. "Spike's um… well, he's working on some… other stuff," was all Angel said. They'd find out soon enough, but there was no need to announce it in front of everyone this way. Spike wouldn't want that. "Oh just one other thing," Angel added before they broke for lunch. "If you happen to find any remaining dragon pieces laying around outside the Hyperion hotel still... you know… twitching, give them a good stabbing for me, okay?"

"Sure thing," Buffy promised on behalf of them all. "You _really_ didn't like that dragon, huh?" Then, chairs were pushed back, conversations started, and Angel stood back against his desk waiting for the room to clear. Angel's team were still working from what remained of the Wolfram and Hart building but Angel had arranged for the Scoobies and company to stay at the Hyperion Hotel and they were eager to sort out their rooms. Buffy lingered, until only she and Angel remained standing in the room. "I can't tell you how glad I am you're here," Angel told her again. "I mean, I always want to see you. That goes without saying. But… it's really, _really_ great to have you here just now, Buffy."

Buffy simply hugged him for a long time. Then they kissed tenderly and despite the discomfort of Buffy's tight embrace – his ribs were still tender - Angel wished time could stand still a while longer. But they were interrupted by a sharp intake of breath from across the room that caused Buffy to pull away. She turned towards the sound. It was Spike, who had not moved from the sofa where he lay sprawled in what appeared to Buffy to be the exact same leather coat he'd always worn. Same hair, same pale skin, same outfit, and same glowering expression she remembered so well. Brought miraculously to life as if conjured from her memories.

"And I can't believe Spike's here!" Buffy gazed at him in awe, a smile spreading over her face as she moved swiftly towards him with Angel's hand still in hers. Angel had explained over the phone, of course, that Spike had been back since shortly after the destruction of Sunnydale, almost a year now, and she had been mentally trying to get her head around that, but she was still amazed to see him in the flesh. They certainly had some catching up to do.

Spike failed to notice her expression of open amazement and misinterpreted her words. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," he apologised with a sneer. "Of course I'd leave the two of you alone to 'catch up' but..." He gulped and pulled his dishevelled form up to a more or less sitting position.

It stabbed Buffy to the heart to hear his snide greeting. She had been so looking forward to seeing him but since they'd arrived the whole time he'd just been lurking in the corner. It seemed he didn't even care enough to get up from the sofa to greet her properly. However she sensed she was missing something. There was something in the way his hands clenched the seat, his knuckles white. "Spike, are you…" she hesitated and turned to Angel. "Is he okay?"

Angel followed Buffy across the room to where Spike was eyeing them both warily. "Let me help you up," Angel wasn't exactly asking as he leaned in and reached out to grasp Spike by the arm, but Spike struck his arm away. "Don't touch me," he said under icy breath. Angel ignored Spike's tone. His own was quietly calm as he leaned closer. "Hey, didn't think you'd be awake yet Spike, or you know I would've gone up to check on you." He dropped his voice further, to a tone most humans could not hear. "Didn't expect you to come down for this meeting, Spike."

"Still not treating me like part of the team, huh?" Spike accused. "What's it bloody take? I did my part. So you could do yours. Would've had your back for the whole big fighty-fight if I hadn't been... That mythic beastie would have ripped _you_ to sheds if I hadn't stepped in..."

"Hey! Don't talk like that…" Angel raised his voice unintentionally, then calmed down and spoke again calmly. "Spike, you know that's not what I mean. Let's just get you back upstairs." Angel reached out but Spike blocked him again.

"Not now," he insisted under his breath.

"What are you waiting for?"

Spike tilted his head ever so slightly at Buffy, who was standing a little to the side and watching the two vampires trying to piece together what was going on.

"Oh, right." Now Angel understood. Spike didn't want Buffy to see him in his current state. Angel knew Spike still hadn't gotten over his 'thing' for Buffy. He'd probably fantasised about how it would be when he finally saw her again, romantic fool that he was. Probably why he'd been pushing his recovery too much of late. And no doubt this was a far cry from how his reunion with Buffy would have run in his imagination. Which was why Angel was so surprised Spike had come to the meeting at all. Angel rolled his eyes slightly. "Not in front of Buffy, huh?"

Spike narrowed his eyes and spoke more loudly. "Aren't the two of you lovebirds just bursting to catch up and all? Well, run along then. Don't let ol' Spike hold you back. Go find some empty room to cosy up in," Spike told them with a dark glare. He mumbled something else under his breath that Buffy didn't quite catch. Something about why the hell he kept making such sacrifices for them and that at least he shouldn't have to watch.

Buffy decided to follow Angel's lead and refused to be intimidated by Spike's glowering. She stepped forward and sat down next to Spike on the sofa. "Actually right now it's not so much Angel I'm dying to catch up with, it's a certain _other_ re-appeared from the dead, vampire with a soul, who I think might have saved the world for me last time we met."

She tried to catch his eye but Spike turned his head away from her. "This isn't how it's supposed to be," he swore, clenching his teeth so hard it was a wonder they didn't break.

"You're a moron, Spike," Angel told him, impatiently. "Just tell her."

"Tell me what?" Buffy asked.

"Buffy," Spike resolutely turned to her and she could clearly see the pain in his eyes. "I'm a moron," Spike said, repeating Angel's words. Then he turned back to the other vampire. "There. Said it. Are you happy?"

"What?" Buffy was confused and a little embarrassed. Was this a joke on her somehow?

"God, Spike, you _really_ are. You just proved it. Seriously, that's the first thing you say to Buffy since Sunnydale?" Angel derided, almost embarrassed for Spike. "With all the time you've had, I expected something a little more poetic from you. I mean I know this is hardly how you would've wanted it to be, but that doesn't mean you gotta screw things all the rest of the way up!" Angel gave a short harsh laugh.

"Doubt I'll be screwing anything for some time," Spike mumbled in a deathly-quiet tone Buffy had to strain her ears to catch.

"Good!" Angel retorted in irritation.

"Okay, what is wrong with the both of you?" Buffy asked suddenly both exasperated and annoyed. "Can one of you please just tell me what's going on?"

Spike looked at Angel for a long moment, saying nothing with words, but it seemed to Buffy a lot passed between them. Slowly Angel spoke. "Buffy," he began. "The thing is… Spike was hurt. Really badly. In the battle. Of course he wanted to be fighting fit by the time you arrived. Been doing everything he can to get there, but…" Angel shrugged. "He's not. He's not there yet. He will be though. Eventually. Right Spike?"

"That's what this is about? You guys think you have to impress me?" Buffy asked. "The two of you are unbelievable!"

"What did I do?" Angel asked.

"Acting like you've got everything under control? I know you're not fully healed from the fight either Angel. You think I didn't notice?" Buffy had felt him flinch when they had embraced earlier and she had been shocked that she could feel every one of his ribs, he'd lost that much weight. "You don't have to cover anything up. I _know_ you guys have had a rough time. That's _why_ I'm here." She turned to Spike. "For God's sake Spike, you saved the world for me. And you're _alive_! That's what matters! You're here. And you're real. That's _all_ I care about!" Buffy reached out and clasped her warm hand over his cold knuckles. "I'm here to help. In any way I can. Just tell me what you need."

Spike pulled away quickly, then regretted it when he saw the hurt look of disappointment on Buffy's face. "I can't do this…" he stammered. "Not now. Bloody hell, can't even..." Spike gasped and ran a trembling hand through his hair.

"Shit, I didn't realise he was this bad. Spike! You in a lot of pain?" Angel asked, dropping to his knees by the sofa. "Did you take anything for it? You should've called me."

"You were busy. Besides, thought I'd be fine," Spike winced. "Felt okay. When I first got up."

"You're not fine, Spike," Angel said bluntly.

"Well, I know that now!" Spike said angrily, his face deathly pale.

"Then come on. Upstairs. Now," Angel ordered.

Spike clenched his jaw. "Don't think I can," he admitted.

"That bad, huh?" Angel tried not to look too worried. "That fight last night. Must've reopened some wounds." He noticed small tremors had begun to wrack Spike's body every few seconds.

"Yeah, guess so," Spike confirmed with a gulp. He looked up at Angel and Buffy, their faces filled with concern. "Don't look at me like that."

"Just let us help you, Spike." It was Buffy who spoke. She could see quite plainly now what she felt she should have noticed all along: Spike was anything but okay.

This time when Angel leaned in Spike did not push him away. He gave in. "Buffy," Angel told her. "Grab Spike's other arm. We'll help him to the elevator."

Buffy placed Spike's right arm over her shoulder, tentative at first, while Angel supported him from the left. As they lifted him from the sofa Spike gasped in pain, and she felt how tightly he grasped her shoulder.

"Hey, you're not gonna pass out on us are you?" Angel asked.

They got Spike into the elevator where he let go of Buffy and half collapsed against the wall, his skin looked so pale it was almost translucent. It was beginning to sink in for Buffy how much this apocalypse had really affected Angel and his team. Angel was not himself either. There was something in his eyes made her sense that a part of him was still re-living the whole battle in his head. He seemed distant as though he mentally had to keep pulling himself back from a dark place. She looked again at Spike sagging against Angel and the elevator wall.

"What happened?" she asked, half dreading the response but needing to know. "What happened to Spike?"

"He came out on patrol with me last night. First time since the apocalypse. Some demons attacked us. And you know Spike, always jumping in to attack without thinking. Shouldn't have got involved, Spike. That was _my_ battle. Should've left it to _me_."

"Didn't exactly have a choice, did I? Those demons last night came out of nowhere."

"Maybe I wasn't talking about last night," Angel countered.

Buffy caught Angel and Spike's shared glance.

The elevator doors opened on Angel's penthouse apartment.

"You live here?" Buffy commented surveying the lavish living space, huge bed, and large windows overlooking LA. This part of the building had survived the apocalypse completely intact.

"Spoilt rotten, isn't he?" Spike smirked, apparently not in so much pain that he'd pass up an opportunity to mock Angel. "Guess Wolfram and Hart didn't want their CEO commuting to the office by sewer every day. That kind of lingering stench can affect a company's reputation."

"Shut up Spike," Angel retorted, as he hauled Spike into the room. He pulled Spike's coat a little roughly from his shoulders. Spike drew a sharp breath and Angel steadied him as he swayed. "Well? Are you gonna lie down now or just wait 'til you pass out?"

Spike glared and sat down on Angel's bed.

"Buffy, that medical kit on the shelf, can you bring it over here?" Angel asked, sitting down next to Spike on the bed.

"Of course," Buffy picked the box up from the table and brought it to the bedside, holding it awkwardly as she observed the two vampires bickering.

Angel pulled Spike's shirt up, but Spike pushed it down again. "Hey!"

"Come on Spike. If you're in this much pain, you know it's the only thing that's gonna help."

"I hate the feeling of it," he objected in a whisper.

"What feeling? The lack of pain?" Angel mocked.

"The lack of _feeling_. Oh, and not being able to walk. Don't love that." Spike's expression darkening. "Reminds me of… last time."

"So you'd rather be in agony? Look, you can hardly walk anyway. You look like you're gonna pass out any second," Angel argued. Spike said nothing. "Spike, this isn't like last time," Angel promised dropping his voice. "I won't… We've got souls now, remember?"

"Right. For all the difference that makes. I get to sit around helpless while you make out with _Buffy_ instead of Dru?"

"We're not gonna be making out! No one is." Angel assured.

"Fine," Spike gave in, sinking back onto the pillow finally and closing his eyes. "I don't really have a choice anyways. You always have your way with me, don't you Angel."

"Like hell I do. Can't get rid of you. Can't shut you up. Oh, and if we do make out? You _don't_ get to watch." Angel grabbed the medical kit from Buffy and pulled out a large syringe and needle.

"What are you going to do?" Buffy asked alarmed all of a sudden.

Angel looked up. "Just give him an anaesthetic. Into the spine."

"Sounds extreme," Buffy commented.

"It works."

"Have you done this before?"

Angel and Spike shared a glance then Spike turned onto his side, facing away from them. He pulled up his shirt to reveal his lower back bandaged tightly. In the centre of his back above the bandages Buffy could see the evidence of several previous needle insertions.

"I guess you have," she concluded.

"Only thing that really works," Angel explained. Vampires, being technically dead and without a beating heart, didn't have the best circulation at the best of times, and with Spike in his current condition… "Short of knocking him out completely. Aspirin's not exactly gonna cut it and good-old-fashioned alcohol barely seems to take the edge off – although it didn't stop Spike from trying. Until we ran out."

Buffy gulped and nodded. She watched as Angel prepared the needle and carefully injected the anaesthetic. Spike hardly flinched. Buffy caught glimpses of his pale skin discoloured in large mottled bruises above the bandages. When he was done Angel withdrew the thick needle, drew Spike's shirt down again, and packed away the medical kit. Spike lay motionless on his side, facing away from them. Buffy glanced at Angel, wondering if he was okay.

"Spike, you still with us?" Angel asked giving Spike's shoulder a gentle prod.

Slowly Spike stirred and moved onto his back again, pulling himself up on the pillows, and then crossing his arms over his chest defensively, not meeting their eyes.

"Better?" Angel asked, but got no response. "Spike, did it work? Cos I can give you more if…"

"What time are we all back in the conference room?" Spike suddenly interjected focussing sharp eyes on Angel.

Angel frowned. "We? No, no, no," Angel shook his head. "You don't have to worry about that. You're staying here, Spike."

Spike narrowed his eyes. "You think cos I can't fight I'm, what, useless?"

"I didn't say that."

Spike snorted. "Gotta be something I can still do. To help. With the whole LA recovery situation. After all, I was there. I saw what went down."

"Yeah? You were knocked out in the first round, Spike. You didn't see half of it. How about you focus on your own recovery situation." Angel walked across the room and checked the small bar fridge hidden in the sideboard. "I'll send Wes up soon with some more blood. And I'll come check on you before we head out tonight," Angel told him.

"Fine. Well, guess I'll be here," Spike sighed dejectedly from the bed. "Staring at the ceiling."

Angel shared a last glance with Spike before he and Buffy made to leave. "Try to get some beauty sleep. You look like shit."

Spike snorted with a wry grin. "Buffy?" he spoke again just as they turned away.

"Yeah?" She waited for him to say something. "What is it?"

"You look like heaven, you know. All glowing. Radient." The way she was standing, a beam of light had crept through the curtains and caught her in its thrall.

"Jeez Spike, what a thing to say to Buffy! And what would you know about heaven?" Angel was embarrassed for him. "I think he's delirious."

"I don't think so," she said. A small sympathetic smile slayed her lips before she disappeared with Angel, leaving Spike alone in the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The next afternoon (the start of their working day), Angel's team met with Buffy's team again in the Wolfram and Hart boardroom, to go over last night's patrolling, and how the new Slayers had coped, and to plan out the coming night's work.

They were all getting seated when Spike furtively wheeled himself into the room in a wheelchair and pulled up on Angel's right-hand side, with the rest of the team.

"What are you doing here?" Angel asked, frowning. "And where'd you get that thing?"

"Er," Spike looked up at the other vampire, adopting a casual air. "I'm attending the meeting, of course. Here to help out, do my bit, same as everyone else."

Angel scoffed. "What do you think you're gonna be able to do, huh? And where did you get the…"

"Oh, this old thing?" Spike rapped his wheels. "From Gunn. Hadn't returned it to the hospital yet. Handy, really."

"So you can't even walk?" Angel asked lowering his voice, as the boardroom became quieter, everyone settling into their seats.

"Not so much," Spike admitted, "since I had Wesley inject me with a rather large shot of the good stuff. Hell of a difference, it makes, ya know. Can't feel nuthin from about here down." Spike held his hand at waist level. "All working up here though, that's what counts, right?" He pointed to his head.

"Thought you hated that feeling?" Angel pointed out, remembering Spike's objections the day before.

"What feeling? Not being in unbearable pain? I reconsidered my options." Spike shrugged. "Changed my mind. That's allowed, right?"

"Spike, maybe you should reconsider again…" Angel began.

"Or maybe you should get a move on, and start the meeting, Angel. Since everyone's waiting and all." Spike gave a pointed glance.

Angel turned and found it was true. "Right… er…" he began awkwardly. "Thanks for being so punctual, everyone. I've er… got some updates on a few things I want to talk about… but first… Why don't we have each team give a rundown on how things went last night, and sort of debrief. Wes?"

"Sounds like a plan," Wesley nodded.

Buffy piped up. "One thing before we get started, Angel. We need someone to take notes. You know, a scribe. To take down the minutes. Usually Willow does it but she's still in the meeting with that druidic coven along with Kennedy. I don't mind doing it myself, but it's just my typing skills leave something to be desired. Maybe someone else might like to volunteer?" Buffy looked around the room hopefully.

Spike raised his hand. "I'll do it."

"Really? Like you can type any better than Buffy?" Angel scoffed.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Buffy admitted. "In all honestly my typing skills are, well, virtually non-existent."

"You and Angel both, huh?" Spike mocked.

"Come on Spike, you can't type," Angel insisted.

"I bloody well can! Seventy words per minute. A far sight better than your two fingered attempts."

"Since when?"

"Since after that time I had my hands reattached. Did it for physiotherapy. Hone the reflexes and the like."

"I thought you just played a lot of computer games."

"That too."

Buffy seemed satisfied. "Thanks Spike," She smiled and reached across the table to pass the laptop to Spike. "Just open a new document from the template," she instructed.

The meeting then got underway, with Wesley and the other team leaders reporting on last night's patrols of the city. Many of the damaged areas were still overrun with demons of various kinds that they needed to flush out before they became established. Some of the demons were from other dimensions, species none of them had encountered before, and there was quite a bit of research to be done. Giles seemed almost ecstatic as he reported on his findings so far.

"Don't get too excited, Giles, my man," Xander told him. "We're not out to write a thesis here. All we really need to learn is how to kill them. Either that or how to send them back to where they came from."

Next they listened to Illyria's very detailed report.

"Did you get all that down, Spike?" Angel asked. He leaned over Spike to get a look at his notes. It looked as though Spike was doing a surprisingly good job. "Who'd have thought," Angel commented. "You might be even better at this than Harmony."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Well, if Harm's your gold-standard as far as personal secretaries go, that's a tad worrying, Angel. You're damn right I'd do a better bloody job than that little vamp tramp!" He was serious. "Also, as opposed to Harm, I'm not evil."

"Oh, so you want to be my secretary now?" Angel scoffed quizzically. He was a little bewildered by the way Spike was acting today, especially after yesterday. He seemed almost back to his annoying self. Angel knew it was probably mostly a front, to cover his pain, and to get Angel riled up. Sometimes Angel got the impression that Spike would rather be insulted than ignored.

"Is that a job offer?" Spike countered impishly.

Angel sighed in exasperation. Spike's strategy was working. The other vampire was really getting on his nerves. "Seriously?"

"Like I said earlier," Spike became earnest, "I'm just trying to help, any way I can. Same as everyone else. Okay?"

"Okay," Angel nodded, a little uncertainly.

At that moment Angel's cell phone, sitting on the table beside him, rang. Spike grabbed and phone and answered it before Angel had a chance. The truth was he was still feeling a bit stiff and sore from patrolling the streets the night before.

"Angel Investigations," Spike spoke, affected a high-pitched, girly voice to the amusement of Buffy's team of new slayers. "How may I help you?"

Angel tried to grab the phone in irritation but Spike turned away and held up his hand. "I'm sorry, Angel is currently indisposed. May I take a message? I'm his secretary. His _personal_ secretary, yes… Well, the last one was evil and he fired her… I just got the job…Thank you, that's very kind. So, back to business… Oh, you have a thrax demon problem? That you need some help with?"

"Thrax demons? They're pretty nasty. Where?" Angel asked.

"How to kill them?" For a moment Spike almost let his feminine persona slip. "Oh that's easy. I've killed a few Thrax demons in my time… I mean a _friend_ _of mine_ has. Er, my _friend_ has always found a sharp blade through the abdomen works well. The trick is to get in between the armour plates. That's probably where you're going wrong. I'm sure you girls will manage just fine."

"Girls?" Angel, imagining helpless damsels in distress, made another unsuccessful grab for the phone. "We gotta help them."

"Our champion Angel sends his best wishes. I'm afraid he can't do more than that, poor fellow. Rough night. He's still recovering." Spike smirked at Angel who was fuming that Spike had noticed. "Excuse me miss, what are suggesting? … Well I won't lie, we did share a bed last night, but it's a temporary arrangement and he was a perfect gentleman, I can assure you and no, that's not how I got the job. You have a dirty mind, miss… How dare you! This conversation is over!"

Angel grabbed the phone. "It really is," he told Spike darkly as he put the phone to his ear and spoke. "This is Angel. Sorry about that. How can I… Willow?" Angel recognised her voice. She was laughing. "Oh, right. Okay. We'll see you and Kennedy in half an hour then."

Angel managed to resist throttling Spike, who seemed to find his immature prank enormously funny. To Angel's dismay, many others in the room did too.

"Let's just get back to business," Angel sighed, sitting down in defeat, trying his best to ignore Spike. "What's next on the agenda?"

After the meeting finished Angel was still angry with Spike for embarrassing him, so he took him up on his suggestion of being Angel's secretary and dumped him with the task of creating rosters for the next week and typing up the reports. Angel thought he would object to it, but instead Spike just replied, "Righto, boss. I'll send it all through when I'm done," and wheeled himself out of the room. Suddenly, watching the room empty as everyone else also left to get ready for the night ahead, Angel felt bad. Had Spike really felt so left out of things lately that he was willing to suffer the indignity of doing office duties just to feel part of the team? Or was this just yet another way to annoy Angel?

"Spike seems in better spirits today," Buffy came over and spoke Angel's thoughts aloud. "But do you think he'll get it all done? That was a lot of work you gave him. I mean, is he really okay?"

"I don't know," Angel admitted broodily. "I mean, I just gave him that stuff to do as a joke, really."

"I'll talk to him," Buffy offered, and followed Spike out of the room.

…

"Spike," Buffy caught him on his way to Wesley's library. "Wait up!" She blocked his way and he reluctantly stopped his wheelchair in front of her.

"Buffy, not now. I've got work to do," he told her, not quite looking her in the eye. "As I'm sure you do too."

"I want to talk to you," Buffy told him, heartfelt.

"About?" Spike asked blankly, as if he was at a loss for what they could possibly talk about."

"Well," Buffy began, "among other things, I want to talk about us. It's been so busy, we've hardly had the chance. I mean, after everything that's happened between us… and here we are. You and me."

"So…" Spike said a bit sceptically, " _you_ want to talk about _us_? About our relationship?"

"Yeah!" Buffy agreed.

Spike sighed. "Forget about it Buffy. Just… forget about it." He put his hands on his wheels, ready to attempt to get past her.

Buffy stood firm. " _Forget_ about it? No. Spike, how can you say that? You saved the _world_ for me! I told you I _loved_ you!"

"So?" Spike shrugged.

"So?" Buffy was incredulous and hurt.

Spike sighed again. "Buffy, it's alright if you didn't mean it. Middle of an apocalyptic battle. Heat of the moment. I understand."

"Spike…" Is that what he thought? Buffy was crestfallen. "Maybe it was in the heat of the moment, but that doesn't mean that I didn't… Spike, I _did_ mean it."

He gritted his teeth. "Well, in that case, you can always take it back."

"What if I don't want to take it back?" Buffy's voice rose unintentionally.

"Whatever, Buffy. I don't have time for this right now," Spike implored her. "Important work to do. I have to type up these reports for Angel."

"Okay, this is just weird," Buffy threw her hands up. She was struggling to understand what was going on. Their conversation was not going the way she thought it would. "Spike, Angel doesn't care about those reports. He only said that to be an asshole to you. And this thing between us: hasn't it always been _you_ pestering _me_ to talk about our relationship? Not the other way around. _I_ was always the one walking away. So cut the crap. This is not the way things work." Buffy leaned in, grabbing the sides of his wheelchair.

"No it isn't," Spike agreed, finally looking her in the eyes. "Like you said: _you_ always _could_ walk away."

Suddenly Buffy realised Spike was right. She was kind of holding him against his will and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't fight her. Not in the state he was in. He couldn't even walk. "I'm sorry." Reluctantly Buffy backed off. She watched in disappointment as, without another word, Spike slunk off into the library to do the reports Angel had given him.

…

Later that night, out patrolling in some back alleys down town, Angel asked Buffy. "So how'd it go with Spike? Did you talk to him?"

Buffy made a face. "Not so much," she admitted. "I mean, I tried, but…"

Angel sighed. "Don't take it personally, Buffy. He's not exactly himself. Hasn't been since… you know."

"Actually I don't," Buffy confronted Angel. "What happened Angel? What's wrong with Spike? All I know is that he was injured somehow in the battle. That's not enough. I want to know everything."

"What is there to know?" Angel asked, a little defensively. "It was an apocalypse, Buffy. Fire and demons unleashed from every hell dimension imaginable. It was hard enough to look out for myself, let alone keep an eye out for every member of my team. We all had to fend for ourselves. The city was one huge battleground."

"Are you saying no one saw what happened to Spike?"

Angel shifted uncomfortably. "I was battling the dragon at the time. I tried to keep my eye on him but… with the hell-dragon, and then all the other demon-spawn kept coming… It was chaos, Buffy."

Buffy looked at Angel and felt sorry for him. He seemed so anguished, so full of remorse. It had been an awful battle, she could only imagine. "I'm glad you made it through," she tried to comfort him. "But it's over now. You did it, Angel. You saved the city. Ended the apocalypse. That's what matters. You got the job done."

Angel grinned a sad, wry grin. "Like a true champion, huh?"

"A true champion," Buffy agreed. But she wondered why Angel seemed to feel guilty about it. Could it be that Spike was not the only one refusing to tell her the whole story?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Buffy brushed her hair out of her face and sighed wearily as she stepped into the lobby of the Hyperion. It had been a tough night for her team of slayers.

"Guys," she told them, "Give me your weapons. Why don't you head upstairs and get cleaned up. I'll check in with Spike."

The three new slayers nodded gratefully and headed for the stairs. Buffy walked over to the computer station Spike had set up in the corner of the lobby. He was busy talking on the phone to Kennedy. "They're strong all right, but those demons have the peripheral vision of a blinkered racehorse," Buffy heard him say. "I can't exactly demonstrate moves for you luv, but what I'd do is use that to my advantage. Come at them from the side, you know?" Having heard Buffy approach, Spike looked up and gestured that he'd be with her in a minute. Buffy smiled and put down her team's weapons as she waited for Spike to hang up. As surprising as it was to see him take up typing and answering the phone instead of fighting, what was more surprising was how quickly they had all gotten used to it. It became customary to see him sitting behind his desk, nutting out the night's schedule, or booking meetings for Angel and the team to connect with various other groups helping to restore order to the city. About a week ago Spike had moved out of Angel's penthouse at Wolfram and Hart to 'get out of the boss's hair' as he put it. Buffy and her crew saw a lot more of him now that he was staying in a room at the Hyperion, along with the rest of them. About the only time Spike and Angel saw each other in person was for their regular meetings. This definitely meant a lot less bickering between the two souled vampires. In fact sometimes Buffy wondered if Spike wasn't avoiding Angel almost as determinedly as he was avoiding her. Of course by that she didn't mean he was avoiding either of them entirely, he just somehow managed to dodge any chance for a meaningful conversation beyond the immediate business of the day. Either he'd deflect the conversation or say he had work to do. And when he wasn't working at his desk he'd slink off to his room and lock the door.

In moments when she wasn't overwhelmed with day-to-day business, Buffy found herself wondering if Spike was really okay. Even though he'd ditched the wheelchair after three or four days and appeared to be doing better, there was no mention of him joining them on patrols. Buffy knew that vampires usually healed quickly, almost as quickly as slayers. Angel now seemed completely recovered - physically at least. But even though Spike was on his feet again, he still looked pale and maybe a little thinner than Buffy remembered – although he seemed to have abandoned his trademark leather coat after their first meeting and to Buffy he always seemed less imposing, less dangerous, without it. Still, the long-sleeved shirts he'd taken to wearing seemed to hang off him as though they were a little too large. Then again maybe they were. They were probably all either Angel's shirts, or Wesley's. Buffy remembered hearing Angel mention that Spike's apartment had been destroyed in the apocalypse, when that entire part of LA went up in flames.

"Buffy, how'd the night go for your team?" Spike put the phone down and turned to her.

"Great. I guess. Lots of slayage," Buffy told him casually.

"So, what's the tally? Enough to get your team in the lead?" Spike asked.

Buffy shrugged. "I dunno. I lost count. Maybe."

" _Maybe?_ I'll have to ask one of your girls. They'll have kept count. Buff, you know they take this very seriously."

"Yeah, maybe a little too seriously. They're so competitive," Buffy complained. "I get that they're young and they want to impress, but I was never competitive about slaying like this."

"That's because you never had the competition, little miss 'one girl in all the world'. Well, except for Faith."

"True," Buffy admitted, noticing Spike covering up some sheets of paper he'd been doodling on with the team's tally sheet. "So it sounds like Kennedy's team won't be back until later?"

"Not likely," Spike agreed. "They ran into a bunch of Gargorn demons. They can handle it no doubt. Gave 'em a few pointers. Still, should keep 'em busy for a bit."

Buffy smiled. She'd noticed Spike giving her slayers some tips here and there lately on fighting techniques and the many types of demons he knew. "Do you miss it?" she asked, leaning on the counter.

"Miss what?"

"The fighting. Don't you wish you were out there, Spike? Throwing the punches instead of… I don't know… punching the holes in the meeting notes."

She watched as Spike, frowning, put away the tally sheets in the ring-binder and filed it with the other admin files. "I'm still doing my bit," he sounded put out. "Still helping out."

"Of course you are. I didn't mean that you weren't. I just meant that surely…" Buffy hadn't meant to offend him. She noticed something on the desk. "Hey, what are these pictures? Are these yours?" she asked suddenly, picking up one of Spike's pages of doodling with interest. It was a little hard to make out, but it appeared to be a battle scene. The page was dark with overlapping pencil marks and scribbles. Buffy made out flames and clouds of smoke, warped demon faces, all in the shadow of a towering beast… "Is this the dragon?"

"Careful," Spike tried to pull the sheet of paper back. "It's not finished. Besides, I'm not much of a drawer. More Angel's thing, that."

"So, you… you saw the dragon?" Buffy surmised. "That dragon that Angel defeated?"

"Um," Spike seemed to falter. "Yeah, had a bit of a gander, you could say."

"Did you see Angel kill it?" Buffy probed.

"Um, not so much," Spike told her, looking away. "Guess I was a little preoccupied."

"It was some battle, huh?" Buffy tried to get him to tell her more.

"So I've heard," Spike answered, weirdly distancing himself from the matter as though he wasn't even there. He took the paper from her hands and shoved it beneath the desk along with the rest of his sketches. "Well, if there's nothing else I can help you with, I should probably get started on the night's report."

"Oh, come on Spike, take a break," Buffy persuaded. "Kennedy's team's not even back yet." She tried another tact. "Hey, you wanna go get a coffee or…"

"Don't drink coffee, Buff," Spike grimaced. "Doesn't agree with me these days."

"You don't have to drink coffee," Buffy tried not to feel exasperated. "You can drink blood or beer or… whatever you want. My girls are ordering take-out. Giles is serving tea in the lounge. The whole gang is gonna be hanging out." They did this most nights, especially after a big night of slaying when they were still too pumped to sleep. It had become a regular way to wind down and relax and share stories. "You should join us."

"Thanks Buff, but…"

"But?"

"I think I'll just finish up here and turn in early."

"Fine. Buffy shrugged, trying not to show her disappointment. "I need to return these," she picked up the weapons, "and take a shower." She turned to go.

"Buffy," Spike called after her wearily. "I'm sorry."

"I said it's fine, Spike." Buffy replied, turning around a little angrily. "If you'd rather mope in your room than hang out with your friends, that's your choice. Suits me just fine."

Spike sighed. "Oh, come on, don't be like that," he objected.

"Be like what? I'm not being like anything. You're the one being… all week you've been… like…all… closed off and… weird." She accused a little pathetically.

"I'm really sorry." Spike told her sincerely, but without explanation. "Okay?"

"Okay," she told him resignedly, at a loss to understand what he was really apologising for exactly, but not wanting to argue. "Okay."

…

Buffy was sipping on one of Giles's new tea blends, while hers and Xander's teams of slayers lounged on the sofas, bragging about their best kills for the night, when Willow and the rest of Kennedy's team joined them – minus Kennedy herself.

"Hey Will," Buffy greeted her. "How was your night? Is Kennedy okay? I hear her girls got in a spot of trouble. Where is she?"

"She's coming," Willow sat down next to Buffy. "She's just in the foyer still talking to Spike. Oh, can I gave some tea? I love that blend!"

"Be my guest," Buffy made a face and gave Willow her cup. "I was just trying to be polite and not offend Giles."

"Well, I'm offended now," Giles complained in a friendly way, "to know that you didn't have the decency to express your true opinion. Let me brew you the green tea instead. Perhaps that will be more your taste."

"Hey girls, results are in. Our team won!" Kennedy announced to a warm cheer as she entered. "But we couldn't have done it without some very helpful and timely advice from the one and only Spike." She dragged him forward by the arm and he reluctantly stepped into the room too.

"Hey Spike, about time you came to hang with us," Xander commented. "You're been missing the nightly fun times."

"So you _are_ joining us now?" Buffy asked quizzically.

"I'm not exactly being given a choice, am I?" Spike pointed out through clenched teeth, as Kennedy was still gripping his shirt rather tightly.

"No, you are not," Kennedy told him. "We all want you here to celebrate with us, right girls?"

The other slayers all chimed in their agreement.

"Well, I don't know 'bout celebrating," Spike said dryly. "Don't got a lot to celebrate myself, but I'll stay for a bit," Spike agreed reluctantly.

"Come on girls, shove over. Make some room," Kennedy told her slayer team who were hogging the best couch.

Buffy and Willow both noticed Spike wince as he sat down awkwardly on the couch opposite them, next to Kennedy's slayers. "Spike, are you okay?" Willow asked, concerned.

"Yeah," he told her, a little too quickly, putting his hand to his lower back. "It's nothing. It's just…" he gulped, "my bloody back's still kinda fucked-up." He admitted with a peculiar strained laugh.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Willow asked.

"Not really. Just… probably should lie down, is all," Spike admitted self-consciously, glancing towards the door, as if he was contemplating going back on his word and retreating to his room as he usually did.

"Spike," Buffy was horrified. "Is this why you never join us? Is this why you disappear and go hide in your room every night? Because you don't want us to know that your _back hurts_?"

"Well, not exactly," Spike defended. "Not tryin' to hide anything, Buffy. Just don't want to get in the way… spoil the fun…" Spike stammered.

Willow melted with sympathy. "Aw Spike, you're not in anyone's way. You can lie down on one of the couches here. There's plenty of other seats for the rest of us," Willow told him, shooing a Kennedy's slayers off the best couch. "No biggy. The girl's don't mind. And you don't need to feel awkward about it. We're all just lounging around, anyway. Make yourself comfy! You need some cushions."

"Yeah, you want an icepack or a heat pack? Would that help? We've always got those on hand." Kennedy offered, as she and Willow helped Spike get comfortable as he lay back against the cushions.

"No, it's fine," Spike caught Buffy watching him and rolled his eyes. She smiled. No doubt Spike was feeling a little awkward with the girls fussing over him like this.

"You want a beer?" Xander asked offering him one. "Unless you'd prefer Giles's hideous teas. Oh, I think there's some pizza left too."

"No, I'll pass," Spike told him.

"Oh, Giles do you still have some of that whiskey?" Buffy remembered. "Maybe Spike would like…"

"It's fine, Buffy. I don't need anything." Spike insisted.

"Oh come on, Spike! Just relax. Let me get you a drink of _something_. What do you like to drink these days other than…?"

"Just the red stuff." Spike told her. "Nothing else."

"Nothing else?"

"Forget it, I'm not especially hungry, anyways."

"No, I'll get you some blood. I don't mind. Of course I don't mind. In the foyer fridge, right?" Buffy left to get Spike a mug of blood. It concerned her in a vague way that Spike didn't want anything but blood. Even though he was a vampire he's always like indulging in human food in the past.

When Buffy returned, Spike was joining the others in figuring out what type of demon one of the slayers had come across down near the docks.

"Either that or it was just a very large Fyoryl demon with weirdly twisted horns," Spike was saying. "If Giles had've been there, he would've known for sure, after his Fyoryl demon experience."

"Please don't remind me," Giles said light-heartedly.

"Well, here's your drink. Nothing but pure 100% body-temperature blood," Buffy sat the mug on the side table next to Spike.

"Thanks, Buffy."

As the early hours of the morning approached, Buffy's gang gradually trailed off to their rooms, until only the Scoobies remained. Buffy was quietly discussing tactics with Xander. Giles poured more tea as Willow stifled a yawn as she read over some of his research. It was nearing daybreak when Angel unexpectedly appeared.

"Angel!" Buffy looked up, glad to see him. "What a nice surprise. Come join us."

Angel wearily sat down.

"Wow. You look beat," Buffy commented.

Angel ran his hands through his hair. "Yeah. I'd been going over and over stuff with my team. Illyria's really getting to me. Wes thinks he's got her under control, but I don't know. Thought I'd talk to Spike. See what he thinks," Angel mused. "If she goes off the rails… that, on top of everything else…" Angel sighed broodily.

"Sounds like Spike's right," Buffy noted. "You sound overwhelmed. You seriously need to take a break, Angel. You certainly deserve it."

" _Spike_ said that?" Angel asked sceptically. "Geez, that's a little hard to believe." Angel looked across to where Spike lay stretched out on the couch opposite, his frayed jeans and big boots scuffing against the upholstery.

"It's true. In fact he was trying to schedule you some time off over the next few days. Isn't that right, Spike?" Xander asked. "Spike?" he repeated when there was no response.

"He's asleep," Angel commented. They all realised it was true. Spike had drifted off and they hadn't noticed.

"Should we wake him?" Buffy asked. "I mean, if you guys urgently need to talk…"

"No," Angel sighed. "Let him rest. Probably needs it. It can wait 'til tomorrow."

As Angel and the Scoobies talked quietly, Spike stirred and mumbled in his sleep. They took no notice until his words became clearer. "No. Don't do it." they heard him mutter. "Bad choice."

"I think he's dreaming," Willow commented.

At that moment Spike cried out and thrashed around, "Watch out, Angel! The dragon! Don't let the dragon… Ahh!"

Angel went over and shook Spike firmly. "Spike, wake up! You're dreaming, Spike! It's over."

Spike woke with a shudder, running his hand over his face. "Dreaming. Right. Yeah, I know that."

"You okay?" Angel asked helping him sit up.

"Yeah," Spike blinked and looked around. "Must've dozed off, I guess."

"The dragon," Buffy remembered Spike's drawings from earlier. "You were dreaming about that dragon?"

"Still having those dreams, huh?" Angel inquired in a low voice.

"Well, they're hardly just dreams are they?" Spike replied quietly, sharing a meaningful look with Angel.

"What are you talking about? What dragon?" Xander asked unaware of what they were talking about.

"The hell-dragon that Angel fought in the apocalypse. Spike saw it," Buffy explained. Suddenly she realised something. "Oh my god! It was the dragon that injured Spike, wasn't it?"

"The dragon that was slain outside this hotel?" Giles asked.

"Yeah," Buffy nodded. "Apparently it was some fight."

"It nearly beat me," Angel opened up painfully. "I should never have taken on that dragon so early in the fight, single-handed like that. It was a stupid and costly mistake." Angel told them.

"But you… did it to save Spike. You saved him from the dragon, right?" Willow asked, trying to piece the story together.

Spike gave a bitter laugh at her interpretation. "Something like that," he grinned ruefully. "For all the difference it makes. Over now, anyways. Forget about the details, right Angel?"

"No," Angel said broodily. "I can't forget."

"Just let it go, Angel. Doesn't matter," Spike told him quietly.

"No. It does matter," Angel was adamant.

"Why?" Giles voiced their curiosity.

"Cos that's not how it happened, that's why!" Angel said angrily. "I didn't _save_ Spike from the dragon. I went after the dragon because I was a fool. I wanted to be a hero. I wanted the glory. Like an idiot, I wanted to slay the mythic beast and save the world."

"And you did," Buffy reminded him.

"Sure, I did. But not alone. That hell-dragon was too much for me. If Spike hadn't stepped in… I would've been ashes almost before the battle began. It was Spike who saved _me_ from the dragon. Nearly paid his life for it." Angel let those words sink in. "And if he hadn't, there's a good chance we'd all be in hell right now."

"He sacrificed himself?" Giles noted. "Again? Rather similar to last time isn't it? Closing the hell mouth in Sunnydale."

"Well, don't make me sound like some kind of martyr, Rupert," Spike gave a tired smirk. "Not like I planned it, or thought it through. Just seemed like the thing to do in the heat of the moment, I guess."

"It's my fault," Angel admitted guiltily. "I made a bad judgement and you paid the price."

"It's done, Angel," Spike told him tiredly, like he'd said those words a million times. "I don't blame you for it, nor should you. The way you go on about it, anyone'd think I was your damsel in distress you'd sworn to protect. Besides, no point you tearing _your_ self in half from the guilt of it, now is there?"

"Guess not," Angel admitted. "But that's easier said than done."

"Really?" Spike asked in annoyance. Angel and his eternal guilt complex. "You think that was easy to say?"

"Right," Angel took the point. It was very magnanimous of Spike to absolve him of blame. "Dumb comment. I wasn't thinking."

They all sat in silence until Spike pulled himself to his feet. "Well, thanks for the lovely evening. I should turn in," he announced.

"You're not gonna finish this?" Angel asked, picking up the almost untouched mug of blood Buffy had got for him earlier.

"Nah. You have it Angel. No need to let good blood go to waste. See you all tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Spike," they bid him as he left the room.

After Spike had left Buffy turned to Angel again. "So this is what you haven't been telling me? You feel responsible for what happened to Spike. That's why you're so hung up on that dragon, huh?"

Angel said nothing, just stared broodily into space, grinding his teeth.

"Angel, it must have been a horrific experience." Giles sympathised. "But you and Spike both made it through. And it sounds like he truly holds no ill-feelings towards you."

"That's what I hate the most!" Angel burst. "I can't stand how understanding he's being about the whole thing!" Angel clenched his fists. "It's _my fault_ , Giles. He knows it. I'd prefer if he was angry at me. He has every right to be. The old Spike would be, that's for sure."

"Maybe he's simply grateful to be alive," Giles suggested. "And even if Spike was badly hurt, Angel, he will heal."

"I don't know." Angel countered. "He seems to be doing better, up to a point, but… he's still not himself." Angel sighed. "Some things you never recover from, Giles. Not even immortal vampires."

"What do you mean?" the Scoobies all asked.

"You don't know that half of it. What that dragon did to him…"

"Tell us," Buffy encouraged.

"Ripped into him…" Angel remembered. "Breathing fire and…" Angel shook his head. "He gave me the chance I needed to get the upper hand and I… I had to take it. I didn't see what happened to him after that." Angel admitted. "Not until we found him, days after the battle. I'd pretty much given up looking. Thought he must've burned to ashes."

"You didn't find him for days?" Willow gasped.

"He was buried under a tonne of rubble. When Wes and I dragged him out I was shocked to find that he was conscious, the state he was in. Look, I know us vampires can heal up from all kinds of mortal wounds. Can't count the number of swords that've run me through over the years… But what happened to Spike? I don't know. I mean, do you know much about these hell-dragons?" He looked up hopefully all of a sudden. "Willow? Giles? Do they have some kind of mystical qualities, or chemicals toxic to vampires? Could there be some other reason why Spike might not be healing the way you'd expect?"

"You think Spike's not healing?" Giles asked inquisitively.

"He kind of is, slowly, but…I don't know, maybe it's just gonna take some time," Angel admitted. "Of course it'd help if he had more of an appetite," Angel added, downing the rest of Spike's mug of blood.

"Well, maybe this is something worth looking into, Angel," Giles noted. "Willow and I are happy to research dragon lore and enchantments, if you feel that may help. In the meantime, I think Spike has the right idea. We all need to get some much needed sleep before anything else."


	4. Chapter 4

At their next meeting in the boardroom Angel and Buffy and the others all agreed that the large demons they'd been seeing more and more around the docks were, as Spike had suggested the other night, large Fyoryl demons.

"They must be hiding out somewhere, but where?" Kennedy asked. "We need to figure out what they're up to so we can formulate a proper attack. If only we could decifer that gibberish they're always muttering."

"Excellent idea, Kennedy! Why didn't I think of it before," Giles said.

"You don't mean to tell me you Can understand those things do you?" Gunn asked.

"Of course not. Although I suppose I did for a short while, but it didn't stick," Giles recalled the time back in Sunnydale when he'd been transformed into a Fyoryl demon by Nathan Raine. He also recalled that there had been only one person who had understood him. "Spike understands their language fluently," Giles informed the team.

All eyes turned to Spike. "It's pretty basic really, if you're unlucky enough to spend a bit of time with 'em," he explained.

"Great! That's exactly what we need!" Xander was enthusiastic. "Spike can patrol with us tonight. We're sure to run into one or two of them. We just need Spike to get close enough to interpret what they're saying!"

"Woah woah! I don't like the sound of that," Angel objected. "There's no way Spike should be patrolling. Especially if it involves getting up close and personal with these over-grown Fyoryl demons. Their kind fly into a blind rage at the drop of a hat. Think of a new plan."

"He doesn't have to fight them," Kennedy argued. "Just eavesdrop on their conversation."

"Sounds like a piece of cake," Spike shrugged, looking up from his notes. "Fyoryl demons don't exactly have a habit of whispering."

"Seriously?" Angel asked him. "You're actually considering this, Spike? After what happened last time you patrolled? Spike, you're not ready to fight. You know that. What if there's trouble?"

"I'll be careful. I can be stealthy," Spike pointed out.

"Like hell you can," Angel swore.

"It's a good plan, Angel," Buffy agreed with Kennedy. "We need more intel. And Spike won't be alone out there. I'll be on the team, along with the other slayers. If any trouble of the violent kind breaks out, we'll handle it. I will personally make sure Spike stays well out of it."

"Swear?" Angel asked.

"Cross my heart," Buffy swore. " In fact my team agrees to forfeit all our points if Spike so much as gets a scratch while we're out."

"Oh man, that's not fair!" One of the younger slayers complained. " _All_ our points?"

"Points schmoints. That's not what matters. Besides, we won't lose them because we'll _do our jobs_!" Buffy put her in her place with a glare.

Angel hesitated. "I'm still not comfortable with it. Maybe I should join you guys too."

"Okay, now that's overkill," Spike told him. "There'll be four kick-ass slayers plus the one and only Buffy herself. You'll probably just get in the way Angel. You know you're not that stealthy yourself. Been a tad preoccupied lately too. Not great in a tense situation. 'Sides, I managed to get you the night off. And you're not spending it stalking around me being a right pain in the ass."

"Night off? I thought I had some long meeting with..."

"Nuh-ah," Spike smirked. "Just had to put that in the schedule to block the time out without you getting all suspect."

"So I don't even have to cancel anything?"

"It was a fake meeting," Spike admitted.

"Then I'm definitely coming out with you and Buffy."

"Angel, maybe it would be wiser to take the night off," Wesley suggested as tactfully as he could.

"What are you saying?"

"You're overworked. You haven't taken any time off since the apocalypse. You need to take time out to de-stess."

"You think I need to de-stress?" Angel asked.

Wesley, Spike, Gunn and Buffy all nodded.

"Angel, we understand you're anxious about what may happen tonight. But each and every one of our team is more than competent at their jobs. You need to trust your team. And give yourself permission to relax and accept that you cannot control everything."

"You think I try to control everything?" Angel asked.

"I believe you think you should be able to prevent anything bad from happening," Wesley explained. "But you can't Angel."

"So, what, Wes? I should just stop trying?"

"Nothing's bad is gonna happen," Spike assured, knowing how worried Angel was about him. "And if it is, maybe it's better you stay out of it. If history's anything to go by, the worst things that've happened to me have always been when you're around."

"Hey!" Angel objected. "I'm trying to look out for you, here."

"And I'm tryin' to look out for _you_ ," Spike countered. "Bloody hell Angel, just take the night off."

"Okay, fine," Angel gave in, "I'll take the night off!" and it was decided.

After that they got stuck into planning out the night. Spike would go to the docks with Buffy's team and once they found out the information they needed, they'd be joined by the other teams to take down the whole lot of Fyoryl demons by tracking their base. Buffy would be in charge of ensuring that Spike would not be harmed, and that he'd return safely to the Hyperion once he'd done his part.

"Any questions?" Buffy asked once the planning was done.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with a night off?" Angel whined.

"Seriously? Anything that takes your fancy," Spike rolled his eyes. "Watch some trashy tv or play some mindless computer games. You could even relax in a hot bubble bath. You got that fancy spa in your posh penthouse right? Ever actually thought of using it, Angel?"

"I'm not having a bubble bath!"

"Why not? What's wrong with a nice bubble bath?"

"I don't need your suggestions, Spike. I'll figure something out," Angel moped, feeling aimless and left out as they all cleared the boardroom to prepare for the night.


	5. Chapter 5

"Looks like we're all set," Buffy gave her team of slayers the once over. They were outfitted and weapon-laden, pumped and ready for patrolling the docks.

"How about you Spike?" Buffy glanced over at Spike, who was going to be joining them to try and gain insight into what the Fyoryl demon population was up to.

"I'm good to go," Spike told her as he shrugged his trademark leather coat over his shoulders and suddenly looked so much more the part. Just like the old Spike. She smiled. She was glad he was going to be joining them out and about for once, even if he was on strict non-fighting orders from Angel.

"Just remember. If any fighting breaks out, you stay behind me, okay?" she reminded him as they headed out the doors. "Angel will kill me if anything happens to you."

"Behind you. Got it, Slayer," Spike grinned. "If that's where Angel really wants me, I don't object."

Buffy grinned back and they all stepped out into the fresh night air, looking forward with anticipation of what adventures the night would bring.

…

Meanwhile, Angel moped around in his room, struggling to fill in the time of what was supposed to be a relaxing night off that Spike had managed to schedule for him. It wasn't until his phone rang and he jumped to answer it that he realised just how on edge he was.

"Buffy! What's happened?" he asked, ready for action.

"Relax, Angel." From Buffy's voice he could tell she was smiling. "Everything went according to plan – as in best case scenario."

"You ran into some Fyoryl demons?"

"Yep. Found and followed them. And thanks to Spike's impressive demon language-deciphering skills, we now know exactly where they're hiding out. We're planning to attack later tonight, once Kennedy and Xander's teams can join us. It's gonna be a real party."

"And Spike?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Spike's right here with me. I'm walking him back to the hotel as we speak."

"So, he's fine?"

"Yes, Angel. Spike is fine." Angel could almost hear her rolling her eyes.

"Thank God," Angel breathed a sigh of relief.

"Or you could thank me and my slayers."

"Yeah. Good job," Angel told her. "And if you need any extra help later tonight I'm…"

"You're taking the night off Angel," Buffy reminded him. "We have everything we need. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right. Tomorrow. I'll see you then. Good luck," Angel ended the call. He sat down on his bed, feeling the relief wash over him. He found it strange to realise just how tense he'd been. He's just had an awful feeling that Spike was going to hurt himself again. Angel sighed. He was still haunted by the events of the apocalypse. And the truth was Spike was not the only one still having nightmares. Every afternoon he struggled to wake from a restless sleep of fighting demons – of the literal and metaphoric kind. This apocalypse had really taken a toll on him. He'd gone into it so determined to overcome the forces of evil, but his conviction had been dashed so early in the fight. After the disastrous clash with that dragon, and the loss of Spike, or so he'd thought at the time, he'd kept going only because he didn't know what else to do. There was no other option. Even now, months later, he could hardly believe they'd won. Good had prevailed over evil in the end. But Angel hardly felt like the triumphant hero his people made him out to be. But maybe a hero is not supposed to feel like a hero. Or maybe his team was right. He just needed to take some time off. Take some time to realise the whole world was still here. Not devastated beyond repair. It was right here, as it always had been. Along with all its pleasures and charms. There were still trees and birds and sunshine. Not that he could enjoy all of those things but there were still other pleasures… Angel's eyes moved around the room and he glanced towards the spa in his luxurious bathroom. Maybe he'd take that bubble bath after all.

…

Buffy and Spike walked side by side as they headed back to the hotel.

"You know Buff, if you need to go plan tactics with your slayers, I'm perfectly capable of walking myself home," Spike told her. He felt silly to have Buffy chaperoning him like this.

Buffy gave him a long look with an enigmatic smile hovering on her lips.

"What?" Spike asked, feeling a little awkward under her penetrative gaze. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kicked at the broken pavement.

"You don't like a lady walking you home," Buffy accused. "Is it too… emasculating?" Buffy asked.

Spike scoffed. There were a lot of other things making him feel more emasculated, but he didn't want to get into that. "You call yourself a lady?" Spike mocked instead. Then he shrugged. "No, I can tell you're itching to get back into it, that's all."

"I can wait," Buffy assured him. "I swore to Angel that I'd see you safely back to the hotel and that's what I plan to do. Although we don't need to draw it out. Here, let's take this short cut." Buffy tugged his sleeve as she veered off into a side alley. "Feels like old times doesn't it?" Buffy turned to him. "Just you and me, patrolling the dark streets together."

"Feelin' nostalgic slayer?" Spike smirked remembering that mostly Buffy had always acted annoyed back in Sunnydale when he used to follow her around on patrols.

"Aren't you?" Buffy asked him seriously.

Spike looked away. He'd been hoping to avoid this kind of conversation but wasn't sure how to do so without offending Buffy. He listened in the darkness, his vampire senses suddenly alert.

"What is it?"

"I hear something. I think it's coming from…"

"Behind you, Spike. Look out!" Buffy pushed Spike aside and jumped forward, pulling out her dagger as a large slimy demon sprang from the shadows brandishing its razor-sharp claws.

It didn't take long for Buffy to defeat the evil creature. Spike watched her every move from the other side of the alley. He almost jumped to her aid several times, but each time Buffy's moves were dead on. It was clear she had it all under control. With one final stab to the heart the demon collapsed into a puddle of putrid liquid and Buffy sheathed her weapon. "You okay?" she asked, turning to Spike.

"Yeah, course I am. Cowering on the sidelines, wasn't I," Spike cringed.

"Good," Buffy approved with a pointed glance, as they continued on through the now empty alley. "As you should."

"That was hard," Spike admitted a few moments later.

"What do you mean?"

"Not jumpin' in. Standing there like a damn moron while you took on that beastie." Spike shook his head with a wry smirk. "Just feels wrong, I guess. Lettin' a lady defend me in a fight like that."

"Oh, so I _am_ a lady now?" Buffy grinned. "Spike, since when did you get so chivalrous?" she asked reaching out and taking his hand flirtily.

Spike tensed. "Buffy, I just meant…"

"Hey, I'd hate it too," she told him sympathetically. "Standing on the sidelines. But it's only temporary, right? You'll be fighting again in no time at all, just like old times. Then we can have some fun. That's something to look forward to, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, 'course," Spike said looking evasive. "I didn't meant to… Look, you don't gotta feel sorry for me, that's all. Don't need anyone's pity." Spike gently pulled his hand away from hers.

"Spike, I don't pity you, I just…"

"Nah, 'course not," Spike didn't seem to want to discuss feelings of any kind. "Let's just get back before any other nasties come our way." He shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered determinedly on, with Buffy quickening her pace to keep up.

Once they got back to the hotel, Buffy went to grab some more weapons, while Spike went to his desk and took off his jacket. Before leaving, Buffy hesitated. Now seemed like the perfect opportunity to talk to Spike alone, something she'd been trying to do since they'd arrived, but he was still being infuriatingly evasive and she didn't know if it was wise to push things. "Well, I guess I'll see you later," she told him with disappointment.

"Buffy," he finally looked up at her. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" What was he always apologising for anyway? It was becoming annoying.

"I'm sorry I haven't been very…" he began, but broke off and didn't seem to know what else to say.

"Forthcoming? Articulate?" Buffy adlibbed. "High-spirited?" She took a deep breath. It looked as though she was going to have to do most of the talking. "I get it, Spike. Everything's different now, everything's changed. I guess I can't expect that we can just pick up from where we left off?"

"Buffy," Spike spoke softly, his blue eyes finally looking up at her, "if you think my feelings for you have changed one single bit, you're wrong. Don't imagine they ever will. I still…"

"Love me?" Buffy stepped closer, but Spike stayed as still as a statue.

"Always. But I don't expect anything. Not anymore. I accept the way things are."

"And how is that?"

He hesitated. "Buffy, I don't want to drag you down or hold you back. You deserve more than…"

Buffy surprised Spike by becoming angry all of a sudden. " _Stop_ it, Spike. Geez that pisses me off! You know what your big _problem_ is?" she pointed at him with the double-headed axe she was holding.

"Which one?" Spike asked, holding up his hands as he eyed the blade warily.

"Putting me on some kind of a pedestal! _You_ don't get to decide what I deserve. _I_ get to decide. _I_ get to choose. Okay? _Okay_?" She asked. "Maybe what I want is not what you think I deserve, but if you really care about me, don't you think I deserve to make that choice for _myself_?"

"Okay," Spike insisted, glad when she finally lowered the weapon. "Yeah. Of course. No need to get your knickers in a twist. Didn't mean it like that anyhow."

Buffy's cell phone jingled and she checked it quickly. It was a text from Kennedy. The others were waiting for her. "Fine. Good. Well, I've got to go."

"You go fight your monsters, Buffy. I've got work to do myself." Spike told her a little coldly and disappeared behind his desk. Buffy was left feeling like she'd handled things wrongly again somehow.

…

It was later that night, when Giles heard a commotion in the hotel lobby. His and Xander's slayer teams had stopped in at the hotel to re-stock on weapons before joining Buffy and Kennedy's teams. Giles came downstairs to find three of the slayers fighting in the lobby over whose turn it was to use a particular weapon.

"Girls! Girls! Weapons down! This is uncalled for! Might I suggest you save your aggression for use against demons rather than your fellows," Giles called out firmly, hurrying down the stairs.

Before he got there, Spike stepped out from behind his desk, "What the bloody hell do you bints think you're doing?" he asked the slayers but they were too caught up in their dispute to pay him any heed. So Spike jumped into the melee, trying to break up the fight. He grabbed hold of the battle axe in one of the slayer's hands. "Put that down, before someone gets hurt!" he said determinedly. It was hard to tell precisely what happened next, but Giles watched as there was a struggle and he saw Spike's body come flying out of the fracas and land hard against the wall.

"What in God's name!" Giles rushed over angrily.

"It's not fair! She had that axe last time!" one of the slayers objected. "It's my turn tonight!"

"I don't bloody care!" Giles swore uncharacteristically and the girls were quickly silenced in the wake of his fury. Giles turned to Spike, who was pulling himself up from where he'd landed against the wall. "Spike, are you all right?"

"Spike winced. "M'okay," he managed through gritted teeth.

"We didn't mean to…" one of the slayers began.

"This is what happens when you squabble amongst yourselves and don't pay attention to what's going on around you," Giles chastised. "People get hurt."

"Was just an accident," Spike defended the girls, pale-faced. "Right? No need to make a big deal out of it." He tried unsuccessfully to rise to his feet.

Giles rushed over and knelt down, noticing with concern the grimace on Spike's face. "You're in pain," he said. "Let me help you. Should I call Angel?"

"No," Spike winced, letting Giles help him over to the lounge in the lobby, only a few feet away. "Don't call Angel. Let the bastard enjoy his night off if he can figure out how. Just…" Spike winced again. "Just get Wes."

"All right," Giles agreed. He was rather worried about how much pain Spike seemed to be in after a single, if rather forceful, blow. Especially as Spike had proven in the past to have a rather high pain tolerance. He obviously had injuries that had still not properly healed. Maybe Angel was right. Whatever damage Spike had suffered, he was not healing as he should. "I'll call Wesley right away."

Wesley came quickly, carrying a case of medical supplies. "What happened?" he asked approaching the distressed vampire curled awkwardly on the lounge. "Spike, is it your back?"

"Among other things," Spike said with a dark glare. "Got me square in the guts, she did."

"Who did? A Fyoryl demon did this to you?" Wesley asked.

"No, no. It was one of the girls," Giles explained. "A slayer. Some of the girls got into a fight in the lobby."

"A demon managed to enter the hotel?" Wesley misunderstood. "I thought the protection spells should prevent any demons from entering…"

"There was no demon involved, Wes," Spike told him. "Not unless you count me."

"The slayers were squabbling," Giles explained. "Their disagreement became violent. Spike stepped in to break things up."

"Stupid move, right?" Spike laughed bitterly. "Should've just stood back, enjoyed the cat fight. Dunno what I was thinking."

"You were trying to help." Wesley said calmly with understanding. "Let me give you something for the pain and then we'll see what the damage is. Giles perhaps you could fetch an icepack from the kitchenette?"

While Giles grabbed ice, Wesley prepared a needle of anaesthetic. "Spike where's the wheelchair? I'll have Giles grab that also."

"Don't have it anymore. Had Gunn return it to the hospital," Spike rolled his eyes, "when I didn't need it anymore. Look, just give me half a dose. Should still be able to walk, then."

Wesley looked sceptical. "Yes. If you can bear the pain."

"It's not that bad, Wes. Honestly."

"All right. I'll give you half a dose. Then Giles and I can help you to your room. Does Angel know what's happened?"

Spike shook his head. "Nuh. The boss is blissfully unaware - and I'd rather it stay that way."

…

The next day Buffy awoke around midday. Last night had been a great success. They had slain all the fyoryl demons – well, a few may have slipped away, but her slayers would weed them out before too long. Her girls had done a top job and she was proud of them. Buffy got up and stretched her tight muscles. After a refreshing shower, she almost skipped down the stairs to begin another day. She glanced at the desk in the lobby. Spike was not there yet. She wanted to have a look at the map of the docks they'd drawn up and mark out some locations for her team to target next. Spike would know where it was, but maybe she'd be able to find that map on her own. She went to the desk and started looking around. At that moment Wesley entered the hotel.

"Hey, Wes," she greeted him brightly. It was unusual for him to come around to the hotel, especially at this time of day. "Can I help you?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I'm just here to see Spike," Wesley explained.

"I haven't seen him. I don't think he's come down yet."

"No. I wouldn't think so," Wesley frowned. "I'll head upstairs. Morning."

"Morning to you too," Buffy told him. It was only then, glancing up at him ascending the stairs, that she realised the bag he was carrying over his shoulder was a medical kit. Buffy didn't think too much about it though, and continued looking for her map.

A bit later, Wesley and Spike came down the stairs together, while Buffy was still poking around at the files on Spike's desk. She overheard their conversation.

"I suppose it could've been worse," she heard Wesley say, "but all the same I think you should take it easy today, Spike. I'll talk to Angel and…"

"Don't talk to Angel."

"Spike, he's going to ask about you. I'm not prepared to lie to him about this."

"Not asking you to lie, Wes. Just tell him it's none of his bloody business."

"Isn't it?"

"Bloody hell, whatever happened to doctor patient confidentiality?"

"Is everything okay?" Buffy greeted them.

"Sure, it is," Spike told her. "Right as rain. Can I… help you with anything there slayer?" He noticed the way she was rifling rather aimlessly through the files.

"Oh, I was looking for a map. You know that map we drew up of the dock last week? I've got some new information. I wanted to get a lay of the land so to speak. Know where it is?"

"Yeah," Spike gave her a funny look and sauntered around the desk. "It's on this machine here, Buffy. Called a computer," he told her wincing a little as he leaned over to turn it on.

"Spike, why don't you sit down?" Wesley advised, stepping forward. "I'll go prepare some blood for you. Whereabouts should I find it?"

"Oh, you want some blood, Spike? I can get that!" Buffy jumped up. "I'll even put it your favourite mug."

"Er," Wesley glanced at Spike. "I don't think that will be necessary Buffy."

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked looking between them. "Spike? Is the kitty mug not your favourite anymore?"

"It's not that Buffy," Spike admitted with a smile. "Relax. 'Course I still dig the kitty-cat mug you gave me." He sighed. "Look, why don't you just go with Wes, show him where the blood is, and I'll get this map for you, okay?"

"Okay," Buffy agreed. She took Wesley to the small kitchenette around the corner and took out the bottle of blood fresh from the butchers.

"Yes, but is there any human blood?" Wesley asked.

"Human blood?" Buffy was surprised. "Let me check." She looked in the fridge and found that there were also several blood bank bags. She took one out and gave it to Wesley.

"Spike's drinking human blood now?" Buffy asked tentatively.

"Not drinking," Wesley explained.

"Oh," Buffy watched as he filled a large syringe with the fresh human blood.

When Wesley and Buffy returned to the lobby, Spike had printed off the map Buffy wanted and he handed it to her.

"Thanks," Buffy grinned.

"Shall I?" Wesley asked Spike.

Spike sat down in the office chair and nodded. Buffy watched as Spike rolled up his sleeve while Wesley fitted a large needle to the syringe of blood. Then he deftly inserted the needle into Spike's uncovered forearm and began slowly injecting the volume of blood into Spike's arm.

"Okay so… is this how you're getting your blood now?" Buffy asked tentatively. "Is there something wrong with the traditional way?"

"By the traditional way, you mean pig's blood microwaved in a novelty mug?" Spike quipped.

"Yeah," Buffy nodded.

"First off, that's not exactly the traditional vampire way," Spike pointed out. He paused before continuing, watching Wesley carefully injecting the red liquid into his veins.

"And secondly?" Buffy prompted.

He gulped. "Guess my guts got kinda scrambled what with all that ripping and tearing of dragon claws."

"Oh my God," Buffy was a little shocked. "You mean you actually can't… Is that why you never eat any food or drink anything other than blood?"

Spike gave a rueful grin. "No more beer and pizza and nights for ol' Spike. Well, not unless I'm keen for a God awful stomach ache for about three days."

"That's terrible. Spike, I had no idea." Buffy's voice was full of sympathy. She knew how much Spike had always enjoyed eating and drinking human food even as a vampire.

"It's not so bad Buff. Vampires are 'sposed to live on a strict red liquid diet after all."

"But you can't even drink that?"

"Generally I can. If I just sip the blood slow like, it mostly goes down all right. Just… not today." He glanced at Wesley as he injected the last of the blood and withdrew the needle.

"Right, that's done," Wesley spoke to Spike as he put his things away. "Spike, is there anything else you need? Anything I can get you? If you want me to hang around for a while I could…"

Spike shook his head. "I'm not some helpless invalid, Wes."

"Of course not. But call me if there's anything else I can do."

"Okay," Spike told him.

"What was that all about?" Buffy asked leaning on the counter, once Wesley had left.

"Don't worry about it, Buffy. It's nothing," Spike assured her, pulling his sleeve back into place and picking up a file from the in tray.

"Angel's worried about you," Buffy told him.

"Angel should learn to mind his own business."

"Fine. As usual you don't want to talk." Buffy nagged.

Spike sighed with frustration. "There's nothing to talk about Buffy!"

"That's not true."

"Some things are not worth talking about. Not worth dwelling on. No point brooding over it. It happened. It's done. It's in the past," he told her fervently.

"What is?"

"The past."

"The past is in the past?" Buffy asked mockingly.

"Exactly."

"Okay," Buffy gave up. She picked up her map and turned to go. "See you at Angel's meeting later?"

"Course," Spike replied watching her go. There was a part of him that wanted to call her back and tell her everything, just let it all spill out, consequences be damned. No. It wasn't right that he burden her with all the baggage of his damaged self. He shook his head and started the very mundane and un-vampire-like task of filing emails.


	6. Chapter 6

Spike and the others all gathered for a meeting in Angel's boardroom later that afternoon. They had got through most of the agenda and were now discussing the new focus for each team for the coming week. Angel frowned. Everyone seemed to have different ideas. They needed some hard evidence to base their decisions on. He turned to where Spike had been sitting. "Spike, do you have the current stats for…"

Spike's chair was empty.

"You didn't notice? Spike slipped out of the room, Angel," Willow informed him.

"When?" Angel hadn't noticed at all.

"During Wesley's report," Willow told him. "But he asked me to take over the notetaking," she indicated the laptop computer in front of her. "I can probably find those stats for you. The files look pretty well organised. Just give me a minute."

"Er, yeah, okay," Angel said distractedly. "When exactly did Spike leave? Did he say why he left?"

"It was about ten minutes ago. He didn't exactly say," Willow told Angel, "but he assured me it was nothing to worry about," she added noticing Angel's concern.

"Yeah, of course he did," Angel muttered almost to himself, not at all reassured.

"You don't think it's 'cos of the blow he took last night?" one of the young slayers asked in a loud whisper. "He did look kind of pale today, don't you think? Like, you know, even paler than usual?"

"That's true," another slayer joined in the gossip. "I thought he was weirdly quiet this morning. Didn't even say hi to me in the lobby."

"After what happened last night you really expect him to be your best buddy Rita?" another slayer asked scathingly. "After all, it was kind of all your fault."

"Was not! I'm not the one who started it… Besides, it was an _accident_! Spike said so himself!"

Angel got to his feet. "Hey, hey, hey!" He spoke over their fretful voices. "What are you guys talking about? What happened last night? I wanna know exactly what's going on. Did Spike get in some kind of fight?" He turned to Buffy accusingly. "You told me he was fine, Buffy."

"He was," Buffy stammered. "He was fine when I dropped him back at the hotel. Nothing happened out there, I swear."

"Then what the hell are your slayers talking about, huh?"

"I have no idea," Buffy answered honestly. "But I'm suddenly feeling kind of curious." She flashed her slayers a severe look. "If something happened Angel, I want to know as much as you do."

It was Giles who spoke up. "The incident happened later. When I took the girls back to the hotel to gather weapons," he explained. "A few of the girls got into a… er… disagreement of sorts. Unfortunately, Spike stepped in, so to speak, and ah… intervened."

"Okay," Angel read between the lines. "So by _disagreement_ you mean…"

"A fight," Giles corrected. "Yes."

"And by _intervened_ you mean…"

"I'm afraid Spike stepped into the crossfire," Giles told him. "He was hurt."

There was a tense silence as they all waited for Angel to react.

"Okay," he said coldly. "Meeting adjourned. For now." Everyone noisily started talking and packing away. Angel turned to Wesley and asked firmly, "Did you know about this, Wes?"

"I did," Wesley admitted.

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"It was your night off. Angel. And there was nothing more you could have done. Of course I advised Spike to take things easy for a while. But he obviously did not listen. I hope he's all right. Perhaps I should check on him."

"Yeah. Let's go find him," Angel said. "Buffy?"

"Yeah? Should I come with?" Buffy offered, worried about Spike.

Angel shook his head. "Wes and I'll go. Just keep your slayers in line," he told her, betraying his anger.

"Right," Buffy nodded. She too was disappointed in her slayers behaviour, and although she really wanted to check on Spike, she did as Angel asked. "Slayers, I want all of you to stay in the room," she stood up. "I have a few things to say to you all."

"Just your team, Buffy, or all of us?" one of her girls asked.

"Are you a slayer?" Buffy snapped. "Then I'm talking to you. _All_ of you. Sit down." Buffy told her slayers firmly.

"It's just half of us have left already. Kennedy's team has mostly left to get lunch and so have Xander and Giles's girls…"

"Fine. Rita, could you please go find the others and send them back in here? I want everyone back in here. Now."

Buffy was going to give them a very stern talk on the duties of being a slayer.

…

Wesley and Angel didn't have to go far to find Spike. He was resting on one of the fancy chaise lounges in the reception area clutching an ice pack to his stomach and reading over some notes. He looked up. "Meeting over, boss? That was speedy. Expected you'd be in there another hour or so."

"The meeting's adjourned," Angel explained, sitting down next to him. "Spike, why didn't you tell me what happened last night?"

"What happened last night?" Spike asked, all innocence.

"Don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about. Your little run-in with the slayers?"

"Oh. So you know that. Head boy dobbed me in, did he?" he looked up accusingly at Wesley who remained standing by the sofa, frowning.

"He didn't need to. The slayers were all gossiping about it," Angel explained in annoyance. "Buffy's still in the board room with them." He glanced around the room. "Or most of them." Some of the slayers milled around, talking amongst themselves, unaware they were meant to be elsewhere. "Hopefully giving them all a good lecture right now."

"Buffy knows too? Great." Spike rolled his eyes. "So I've made the headlines today then. Or the gossip column, at least." Spike also glanced warily at the group of girls lingering across the room.

"Spike, why didn't you tell me you got hurt?" Angel asked again, trying to keep his voice down.

"Why?" Spike looked at Angel challengingly. "What, so you could fret about me some more? Maybe make a bit of a scene in front of the troops?" He tilted his head at the nearby cluster of teens who were trying not to eavesdrop.

Angel lowered his voice. "Spike, I'm worried about you. I thought I saw… was that blood on your chair? If you're injured, I don't think you should be working. Neither does Wes."

Spike frowned. "Then we're all in agreement. Neither do I. Kinda why I left," he explained. "But _you_ don't gotta do anything, Angel. It's all under control. Go back to your meeting. I'll be okay." Spike brushed away Angel's concerns, but when Angel's look of concern didn't change Spike added, "It's not that bad, Angel. Honest."

"Like _hell_ it's not. That's what you said last time!" Angel was emphatic. He was trying not to dramatize the situation, but the truth was he was becoming more worried about Spike lately. He was convinced the other vampire wasn't looking after himself properly as he didn't seem to be healing as he should. "Besides, there's some things you and I need to discuss," he told Spike. It was time they actually talked. Spike seemed to have been avoiding him lately. "More important than that meeting. And Wes wants to check your bandages. Come on. Upstairs," Angel commanded.

Spike held Angel's gaze obstinately, not moving from where he sat.

"Come on, Spike," Angel growled. "Why you always gotta be such a stubborn idiot, huh?"

"Why _you_ gotta be such a controlling bastard?" Spike countered, but he knew Angel could see from the look in his eyes that he had given in. There was no point dragging things out, and the truth was, Spike wouldn't half mind retreating from the prying eyes and ears of the Scoobies and all the other slayers who would soon be milling around once Buffy had finished talking to them. Reluctantly Spike pulled himself up, trying not to wince in case the onlookers noticed.

Angel also got to his feet and turned to Wesley. "Wes, take Spike up to my room. You can treat him there. I should have anything you might need. I'll join you in a minute."

…

Spike was sitting on Angel's bed leaning against the headboard, cradling a fresh icepack while Wesley raided Angel's closet for his medical supplies, when Angel entered with Giles and Willow in tow.

"What's this?" Spike asked Angel suspiciously. "Thought this chat you wanted to have was more of the private kind Angel, just you and me. Wasn't expecting a Scooby meeting."

Willow awkwardly tried to explain. "Um, Giles and I have been doing some research on… er… dragon wounds and their magical effects. Angel asked us to." She held up several medieval volumes.

"Oh did he now?" Spike looked accusingly at Angel.

"He did." Giles confirmed. "Angel requested our expertise in helping to figure out exactly why you still have not healed fully from your injuries sustained during the apocalyptic battle. He believes it bares investigating."

"Why I still haven't…" Spike laughed dryly. "I'll _tell_ you why, Rupert. And it doesn't take any spell books or demon texts to explain it. Here's the thing: A bloody _gargantuan_ fire-breathing _hell_ -dragon _literally_ tore into me, _crunched_ through my spine, _raked_ its teeth and claws through my guts and practically _ripped_ me in half, that's why."

Willow and Giles glanced at each other in shock at Spike's vivid description.

Spike smirked. "That's right. It wasn't fun and it wasn't pretty." He winced as he shifted his icepack. "Just cos I'm a vampire doesn't mean you can expect me to heal up good-as-new instantaneously. Not after something like that. If Angel wants you to search for some kind of magical cure," he told them, "you need to tell him he's dreaming. It don't exist."

"Are you quite sure?" Giles asked.

Spike's eyes darkened. "Angel professes to care about me," he told them spitefully, while Angel sighed and rolled his eyes. "But it's just his guilt talking as usual. Always thinks he has to fix all the ills of the world he's had a hand in to be absolved. Top of his list at the moment is me."

They all looked over at Angel who was shaking his head and grinding his teeth in frustration.

"Well," Giles admitted. "Angel certainly takes his quest for redemption seriously. However he's hardly wrong in supposing there may be some mystical element to your injuries that is preventing you from healing fully," Giles explained. "It's entirely plausible."

"Wouldn't that be neat," Spike laughed mockingly. "A magical cure-all. A nice tidy quick-fix." Spike's eyes darkened cynically, "But it's wishful thinking."

Angel broke the silence. "Spike, I know you don't believe me but I _do_ care about you. I mean, of course I feel guilty about what happened to you since it _is_ kind of all my fault, but this is about _you_ not me and my guilt. Besides, I don't see how it can hurt to get all the information we can. Just…" he sighed, "let us _help_ you, Spike. Who knows, maybe Giles and Willow will find something useful in those crusty old books…"

"Actually, I may have found something already," Willow told them.

"What is it?" Angel asked eagerly.

"Spike, have you still been having those dreams? Those nightmares about the dragon?"

"Why?" Spike asked cautiously.

"From my reading, it seems that a dragon's spirit can manifest through the dreams of their adversaries. In some cases even take control of their thoughts."

"Yes, I've heard of such in ancient stories," Wesley sounded intrigued. "But surely the dragon would have to still be alive for that to be possible?"

"Maybe. But not necessarily," Willow told him.

Spike scoffed. "So you think I'm being haunted by the ghost of a dead dragon, Red? You know, even if that weren't beyond absurd…" Spike winced as he pulled himself up on Angel's cushions, "it'd be the _least_ of my problems."

"Yeah," Angel had to agree with Spike. "You got problems all right, Spike. You're hardly eating anything. You're probably not sleeping well. You keep getting into fights. You're bleeding from God knows where. And you won't even let your friends help you." Angel was clearly frustrated by the situation. "Spike, you can't continue like this."

"Is it really that bad?" Willow asked dismayed. She was sure Spike must have exaggerating with his vivid description of what the dragon had done to him.

"I'm sure Angel's overstating the current situation." Giles was also having difficultly believing the severity of what Angel was saying. "After all, Spike has seemed in reasonable shape lately – last night's incident aside," he pointed out.

"Right," Angel huffed. "That's what he'd have you believe."

Spike sighed. "Let's not have a debate, people. You think I'm hiding the truth? Playing down what happened? I'm not. You think I don't want your help? It's not true. It's just there's no point dwelling on it since… I don't think there's anything to be done about it, is all."

"There's always options, Spike," Angel disagreed. "Spells, potions, rituals…"

"Done about what specifically?" Giles asked, curious.

"Fine," Spike decided, getting up from the bed. "Course Giles wants specifics. You all want to understand _exactly_ what happened to me? You want to _see_ the source of Angel's guilt? Fine. Guess I knew it'd come to this." Spike got to his feet resolutely, and began to unbutton the dark blue shirt he was wearing. "I'll show you how things are and then you tell me what you think you can do about it." Spike ripped off his shirt and flung it to the bed, revealing his bandage-wrapped torso.

"Spike, I don't think this is what Giles and Willow were after. You shouldn't have to do this," Wesley cautioned. "Not if you don't feel comfortable."

"Think I should be embarrassed Wes? Is that what you're saying?" Spike asked with a sideways glance.

"Of course not, it's just that…"

"Oh, come on. It's what everyone's been waiting for," Spike said mockingly. "Wanting me to just lay it all out on the table, so to speak. So let's just get it over with."

"Hey, hey!" Angel objected jumping up as Spike began unclasping the belt of his jeans.

"Don't get too excited, Angel," Spike smirked. "This may be a freak show, but it's not a strip show." Spike hesitated. "You ashamed of me Angel?" he asked. "Don't want the Scoobies to see? If you want them to help, maybe they need to know."

"I guess that's true," Angel relented. "Okay. Go ahead."

Spike turned his back to them. Having loosened his belt, he pushed his jeans just low enough so that he could remove the tightly wrapped bandages that bound his torso.

Wesley stepped over to help unwind the layers of bandages that covered Spike's injuries. As he carefully drew back the last layer of dressings from Spike's skin, Giles and Willow paled in shock. Under all the layers of bandage Spike was much thinner than they'd realised. Angry scars from the dragon's claws cut across his pale skin, extending from his lower torso and hips to half way up his back. Worse than that were the jagged scorched scars that encircled almost his entire waist line, where the fire-breathing dragon's huge teeth had sliced into his flesh. There was something a little off-kilter and in places the skin appeared stretched and puckered, as through the flesh had not been reattached quite as it should have been. As Spike leaned over to place the pile of bandages on the bed, there was a visible kink and slight bulge in the centre of his back where his spine had been crushed and re-formed.

Willow cupped her hand over her mouth. "I had no idea," she breathed. There was no doubt that any human sustaining the injuries Spike had endured would never have survived.

"I would not have guessed your injuries were quite this severe," Giles agreed raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, well, guess this is just what happens if you're stupid enough to royally piss a hell-dragon off," Spike told them cynically, keeping his back to them, but half turning his head. "You get carved up and barbequed and left to marinate under ten tonne of wreckage, until someone has the sense to realise you might not be quite dead after all that." He glanced at Angel who winced with guilt. It was true that Spike had been buried beneath the rubble for several days before they found him.

With a grimace Spike straightened up and hesitantly turned to face Willow and Giles so they could see the front of his body. It showed nearly as much trauma as his back. His lean stomach and waist were also laced with scars from either claws or teeth or both, and in addition to that was discoloured by a mass of mottled bruises, particularly on the left side. Spike tried to hide this from Angel by crossing his arms, but that simply drew Angel's attention.

"All that he bruising. Is that from last night?" Angel asked.

Wesley nodded in confirmation. "I'm afraid so. Spike received quite a strong blow from the young Slayer. It has resulted in some more internal bleeding. Which I'd hoped would be more improved by now."

"Yeah, he's not healing properly," Angel said.

"That's… awful," Willow gaped.

"I'm a _vampire_ ," Spike pointed out. "So what, I don't have the prettiest abs anymore, but it can't kill me, you know. It's not a stake to the heart, or sunlight. None of this can _kill_ me."

"Maybe not, but it can certainly make your un-life a living hell," Wesley said darkly, looking up from Angel's medical kit.

At that moment another person entered the room unexpectedly. It was Buffy. "Hey guys, is Angel up here?" she stopped in her tracks when she saw the damaged and shirtless Spike standing in front of Angel's bed. "What's going on?" she asked, faltering.

"Nothing." Spike became suddenly self-conscious in Buffy's presence, grabbing his shirt from the bed. "Show's over folks. Get out."

"But…"

"Just get out," he repeated with a pained look.

"Oh my God…" Buffy stared, speechless.

"Buffy, I was going to call you when you were done with the slayers," Angel explained to her. "We're meeting to discuss options of what we can do to help Spike recover."

Buffy said nothing, still overcome with shock at Spike's appearance. She'd known he'd been badly injured of course, but his scarred and emaciated appearance really brought home how badly he'd been suffering. No wonder he'd been out of sorts lately.

"Can everybody stop staring at me like I'm some kind of _Frankenstein_?" Spike spoke angrily, fumbling in frustration as he tried to cover himself with his rumpled shirt as quickly as he could. He was obviously very upset that Buffy had seen his injuries.

"I think you mean Frankenstein's _monster_ ," Angel corrected. "Frankenstein was the guy who created…"

"Thank you, Angel," Spike's voice was laden with sarcasm as he finally threw his shirt around his body. " _You_ can get out too, since this is _all_ your _fault_."

"I thought you said the other day that you didn't blame Angel for what happened…" Giles began.

Angel held his hands up. "Spike! Hey! Just calm down. It's important that we talk about this…Let me guess, this is just because Buffy walked in. You didn't want her to know. God Spike, what difference does it make? Hey, you're not about to cry are you?"

At that Spike morphed into his demon face with a snarl like an animal backed into a corner. "You heard me. I said _get out_!" he growled. "All of you!"

Angel ushered the others out, including a stunned and upset Buffy. "Okay, fine. We'll go," he told Spike. "You're _obviously_ not in the mood for a rational discussion. Maybe you'd rather we go talk behind your back instead?"

"Seems you're all pretty good at that," Spike hissed unkindly.

Wesley cleared his throat. "Someone should stay," he told Angel. "Spike's going to need some help getting bandaged up again."

"Right. Well, I really don't think he wants me here so…" Angel told Wesley quietly, "can you stay? Make sure he's okay?" he asked, glancing at Spike who'd collapsed onto the bed covering his once again human features in shame.

Wesley nodded. He would check the injured vampire's wounds and bandage him up in private for the second time that day.


End file.
